


this isn't violence, this is just a war in my head

by irritable



Series: oh, english [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, and peggy can transition from panic to there goes my underwear in 2 seconds, and they both suck at hiding the gay, gross fluff, ok peggy beats the shit out of a punching bag and angie has to suffer for broadway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritable/pseuds/irritable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“i was super pissed so i went to the gym even tho it’s really late at night so i was the only one there and i was at the punching bag listening to music and you surprised me by tapping me on the shoulder, holy shit i didn’t mean to punch you, i’m so sorry, but srsly why the hell would you sURPRISE SOMEONE WHO IS ANGRY AND PUNCHING THINGS” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	this isn't violence, this is just a war in my head

**Author's Note:**

> ok this series will be a string of prompts found on tumblr ((or maybe here hint, hint)) basically any aus and crap more info at the end note!
> 
> imporTANT:
> 
> title from smoke by pvris

It was almost the middle of the night in New York City when the doors to the female locker room was shoved open violently, the bang bouncing off the empty walls and through the room.

 

It was late and she was irritated. Frustrated. Livid, maybe. Probably. Livid, definitely.

 

She stripped off her clothing and pulled on her sports bra, pants, and Nike shirt before throwing everything else she didn’t need into her bag and wrenching out the workout essentials – water bottle, iPod, and hand wrap.

 

Peggy Carter hated Howard Stark. She hated him.

 

He’s a smart man. A genius, even. He just doesn’t stop and  _think_  about any consequences, does he?

 

Bloody arsehole.

 

Peggy hurled her bag into the locker, slammed it shut and twisted the lock.

 

Weaving past the treadmills and various equipment, she stormed to the punching bag and expertly spun the hand wrap around her calloused hands

 

She slammed her water bottle on the floor and her iPod followed soon after she found the right music.

 

Fucking wanker.

 

She jammed her earbuds into her ears, connected by Bluetooth to her iPod, and blasted her workout playlist on a high volume before she got into a more appropriate stance for fighting.

 

Howard fucking Stark. Seducing her previous roommate and getting her kicked out when he didn’t call back.

 

With a huff, she swung her fist back before giving the bag the hardest punch she could.

 

The bag swung back on impact.

 

And he didn’t even help her that much when she was looking for a new apartment.

 

She rolled her wrists around, fingers curled into fists, and sent four more hard punches whizzing though the air.  

 

Right arsehole, he was. Right hand.  _Self-obsessed_. Right hand, left hand.  _Lewd_. Right hand, left hand.

 

Right, right, left. Right, right, left. Right, left.

 

She spun on her right heel and her left leg soared up, striking the bag nearer the top of the bag with the bottom of her foot.

 

Howard Stark, the pretentious, good for nothing prick. Right, right, right, left, right.

 

She punched with less power now, but more precision, knocking the bag in the same place over and over.

 

The self-righteous knob thought it would be a great idea to sneak into her less secure apartment and drain her fucking orange juice.

 

Grounding her teeth together, she kicked it again, this time lower and with more strength.

 

He thought it would be a good idea to swipe her computer,  _pull it to pieces_ , and  _accidentally_  set it on fire.

 

She kneed the bag and easily twirled on the spot to land an elbow on the bag. Then, she returned to punching, practicing the speed of the punches and imagining a certain moustached  _friend_  of hers was the bag itself.

 

“Fuck,” she grunted under her breath after pitching forward when her left hand missed the bag entirely.

 

Quickly regaining her balance, she yanked the earphones out of her ears and swiped the bottle of the floor, taking three large gulps before throwing it back down.

 

At least no one was around to see her Howard Stark induced anger.

 

She pushed the earbuds back in, guitars strumming, and hopped lightly on her toes before returning to her furious beating up of the bag.

 

God, her left hand needed some work.

 

Left. Left. Left. Her fist collided with the bag over and over, more accuracy than strength.

 

Was it a good idea to burn her laptop and a newly finished essay with it, Howard?

 

She scoffed and punched again. Right, left. Right, left. Right. Right. Left.

 

Her music beat a pace into her ears, she turned it up. She focused on her sequence of punches, matching the heavy rhythm of her music. Right. Left. Right, right. Left.

 

Then, a firm tap on her shoulder. Her heart leapt into her throat and she whirled around.

 

Heavy drum beats pumping through her ears and blood, and she threw a swift and clear-cut punch.

 

“Oh,  _fuck_. Shit! God-  _Ow_. Jesus Christ, ow.”

 

Fists frozen in midair and muscles taut. Peggy gaped. Uselessly.  _Oops_ , ran through her mind.

 

“ _God._ ”

 

She snapped back to reality, ripping the earbuds out and flying to kneel beside the person she  _punched right in the face_.

 

“Oh, bloody hell, I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. Shite. Are you okay? Okay, um, just – Let’s get you off the floor, shall we?” Peggy put a stop to her panicking quickly and helped the groaning woman to the nearest bench. “Sorry.”

 

The woman cupped her nose with both hands and hissed when she accidentally knocked her hand into it.

 

“Is it bleeding? Did you hear a crack or any clue as to whether you have a broken nose or not? Can you breathe properly, besides the blood?”

 

“Yeah,” the woman grunted, “to the bleeding and the breathing question. Not for the other thing.”

 

“Yes! That’s good.” Peggy sighed with a nod, blushing when the woman gave her a look. “Good, that it’s not broken. Okay, I’m going to go get you some tissues for that. Again, I’m terribly sorry.” She scrambled up, but paused. “Oh, don’t tilt your head up, keep it down.”

 

When she hurried back, the woman was glancing over at the mirror to see how bad her nose was.

 

Her brown hair fell over her shoulder as she lifted her head a bit higher and scrunched it up with a wince. Peggy blinked.

 

“Tissues. Here. Use it to block the blood from going everywhere.”

 

“I know what to do with nosebleeds, English,” the woman stated dryly as she grabbed the tissues. “I’m Angie, by the way.”

 

Peggy cleared her throat and sat beside Angie. “Sorry, Angie, for punching you in the nose. Apply pressure to the bridge of your nose, though. I reckon you’re going to have a bruise on your face.”

 

“Why  _did_  you punch me?” Angie huffed, looking ridiculous with the pile of tissues in one hand and squeezing her nose with the other. “Last I checked, I didn’t murder anyone close to you or nothing.”

 

The Englishwoman raised an eyebrow. “It was an accident. Why did  _you_  think it would be a good idea to tap the angry person at the punching bag on the shoulder and surprise them?”

 

“You were angry and I wanted to see if you were okay, sue me.” Angie pouted. “Why are you blaming the  _victim_?”

 

“Goodness, I’m sorry!” Peggy got to her feet and plucked her water bottle off the floor. “How many times do I have to say it?”

 

“Excuse me, English, you gave me a knuckle-sandwich in the middle of my damn face with all your strength!”

 

Peggy took a swig from her bottle and returned to her spot by Angie. “It wasn’t  _all_  of my strength.”

 

“Wow. I definitely wouldn’t want to feel a punch thrown in full power if that wasn’t your best,” Angie muttered.

 

Peggy turned her nose up. “That’s right, you wouldn’t. How’s the bleeding?”

 

“Um, there’s less than there was before,” Angie replied after checking. “Say, why were you punching the shit out of that bag in the first place?”

 

“My friend, Howard, crept into my apartment, dismantled my laptop for one of his experiments, and set fire to it. He’s rich enough to buy me a far better replacement, but I  _just_  finished typing up a four thousand word essay due in three days.” Peggy twitched, hand tightening around her water bottle. “The prick had the audacity to blame me for buying a flammable laptop. What laptop  _isn’t_  fucking flammable?!”

 

Angie stifled a laugh. “Whoa, let it out, English. Punching bag is right there.”

 

“Peggy. My name is Peggy Carter,” the Englishwoman introduced herself, not moving from the bench. “I do believe that I’ve punched quite a lot tonight, so I’ll put that to a stop before I punch another pretty face.”

 

“Aw, pretty face, huh?” Angie grinned, discarding the bloodied tissues beside her – the bleeding stopped – and shuffling around to face Peggy better. “Well, English, you’re just as pretty.”

 

“Thank you,” Peggy responded quickly, but shyly. “If I may, why are you here this late?”

 

Angie pulled a face, ignoring the pain from her cleaned up nose. “I had a huge family dinner earlier and I ate a bit too much. You can’t make it in Broadway if you don’t have at least half way to Playboy model figure, so here I am. Didn’t get much working out done, I got punched in the face.”

 

“I’m sorry. Really, I am, but do you have to keep bringing it up?” Despite her annoyed tone, there was a smile on her face.

 

“Well, it hurts and no one is kissing it better,” Angie said, teasingly. Her eyebrows wiggled.

 

Peggy snorted, leaning over and pressing a feather light kiss to the tip of Angie’s bruised nose. “Sorry for hitting you, darling, but I do have to go.”

 

With that, Peggy swiftly got to her feet. She picked up her earbuds, iPod, and water, and pushed through the doors to the locker room with a grin that she lacked when she had walked in an hour and a half prior.

 

After tugging off her sweaty loose shirt, pants, and undergarments, she showered and cleaned up, dressing in a more appropriate for the streets attire. A plain V-neck and jeans, basically.

 

She swung her duffel bag – heavier due to her now damp towel – over her shoulder and a leather jacket over the other as she headed out into the cool night air.

 

“Hey! English!” Angie cried, startling Peggy. She came to a halt beside the Englishwoman, outside the gym doors and under the night sky.

 

She was now better dressed, sports bra and shorts replaced by a summer dress. Cute.

 

Peggy’s lips quirked up. “Angie. Did you need something?”

 

Angie gave her a mischievous smile. “My nose still hurts.”

 

“Ah, so you need another kiss?” Peggy’s eyebrows lifted when Angie gave her a nod. “Well, seeing as it didn’t work the first time, I think you’ll need to find someone else.”

 

She made to leave, head up and arms swinging way too casually. Angie’s hand shot out and wrapped around Peggy’s bicep. Peggy grinned. “Yours works just fine with me, English, just not a long lasting effect.”

 

“Ah, I see.” Peggy turned, amusement lighting up her face.

 

“Yeah, I’ll need a phone number with it,” Angie confirmed with a straight face and a firm nod. “That might work.”

 

“Oh, do you, now?” Peggy’s lips pulled wider, reciting the digits anyway.

 

Angie quickly inputted it into her phone with her own smile before glancing up at Peggy. “And that kiss?”

 

“I have a feeling if I just kissed a little lower, the effect would last long enough until I can give you another kiss.” Peggy’s voice had a husk to it. She leaned closer, dipping her head down and wrapping a hand around the back of Angie’s neck. “Correct me if my feeling is wrong.”

 

“Nah.”

 

Angie pressed up and their lips touched softly. They stayed like that for a couple more seconds before Peggy pulled away with a soft smile and eyes shining with the reflection of the city lights. “You know how to contact me if you need another kiss.”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Peggy brushed her lips against Angie’s nose one more time before taking a step back and plunging her hands into her jeans pockets. “Don’t go getting punched by trained fighters again.”

 

Raising her eyebrows, Angie smirked. “I won’t. You don’t go around punching people. Oh, and we  _will_  be talking about that trained fighter thing later, English, when I go collect my next kiss.”

 

“Of course,” Peggy drawled as she retreated backwards, still facing Angie.

 

Angie stayed in place, watching as Peggy moved farther away.

 

“Have a wonderful evening, Angie.” Peggy called with an impish grin before spinning around in time to be engulfed by the crowd.

 

Angie chuckled, turning the other way and heading back to her own apartment. “You, too, English.”

 

Peggy was most certainly not looking forward to it, but she guessed she’d have to thank Howard later.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, do tell me if there are any errors or whatever! leave feedback, tell me to stop writing, whatever you like!! appreciate anything <33
> 
> ok you can stop reading here if you dont give a shit about this series!!!
> 
> but basically the series will contain one shots (or not very long multichapters) from prompts that i find on tumblr or receive (tumblr is edqarquintero but hey theres also this comment box thing down there that works well) 
> 
> thank you again!


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